


Relief

by Houseofyourimagination



Category: Naruto
Genre: Depression, Family, Gen, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Self-Indulgent, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel, will add more tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7008697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofyourimagination/pseuds/Houseofyourimagination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was just so tired of everything.</p>
<p>Sakumo had no other place to go. He couldn’t breathe past the hands choking his throat with the whispers behind his back.<br/>He found a scroll.<br/>---<br/>Kakashi was feeling peeved.</p>
<p>Within the last three weeks he had to face piles of paperwork, mountains of needed signatures, and a group of disputing council members who could never agree on one same thing.<br/>He vaguely (not entirely, that would be asking for trouble) hoped that something intriguing would take place soon or else he may become the first Hokage to die from sheer boredom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weary

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly canon compliant for the past and future but details will obviously not be completely the same wherever time travel is thrown in.
> 
> \---------  
> Weary - adj. : physically or mentally exhausted by hard work, exertion, strain, etc.; fatigued; tired
> 
> Sakumo is weary.

Sakumo was in a dark place in his life.

His mind was in a constant state of muted turmoil, repressed thoughts always shoved against what he believed to be his solid judgement every waking moment. It seemed that a depressive haze clouded his senses to numbness, leaving a dull pain in his chest whenever he thought about where he was going to go from here. It was no puzzle how far he had fallen since that mission, and sometimes he wished that it would all just stop, releasing him from his worries and pain.

It could be said for him, with a self-depreciating grimace, that the lights in his life were dimming incredibly. This being both physical and mental, seeing as he was stuck in a continuously neverending rut in his life and hiding out in a cave for the night with his current teammates for this reconnaissance mission. He could only hold to the small comfort that this task was simple and took him out of the village and away from the swirling mass of negative emotions that awaited him at home and followed him everywhere he went. It was at least a three days’ journey, though Sakumo could not be too entirely sure. (It seemed that keeping track of time these days only lengthened the already long days and even longer nights where he could never fall asleep amongst the screaming thoughts for him to _stop everything_.)

However, the simple fact that he was physically removed from his suffocations did nothing.

The rocky ground beneath them as he slept did nothing to soothe the ache in his heart.

The ever present pounding in his head.

The numbness in his mind.

The constant stress. 

The way the people, civilians and ninja alike, constantly _talked_ and _whispered_ behind his back, snide comments creeping behind him about how he was a _traitor_ and a _failure_ of a shinobi to Konoha's finest and brightest minds. He was a poison in their system; the White Fang, broken down and ignoring every rule ever given for the completion of a crucial mission for the village’s growth. Completely dishonoured and vilified by even those he had thought he sought to protect. Sakumo was nothing more than a _failure_.

He did not deserve to wear the forehead protector of their strong shinobi village for failing that mission so bad. For failing the trust of his village’s leader. For failing the simple mission guidelines just to carry out what he believed to be right. For failing his own name, his legacy, his _family_ , his son. It mattered not how justified and right he felt that his actions were for the goodness of his colleagues, his teammates, his friends. He was simply _trash_ , putting everything at risk because he was too soft, too shortsighted, too _kind_ (or at least he hoped to be, for he could only cling to whatever thoughts that could maybe alleviate the stabbing _pain_ he felt whenever he even _breathed_ ).

It did not matter how much he kept his stance with his beliefs or held his head high with whatever pride he even had left in his mind; they simply knocked him back down, throwing words and at times actual objects in his direction when he went out into the streets of Konoha to go buy food and other supplies for his clan, his compound, his home, for him, and for Kakashi.

And Kakashi. Oh, _Kakashi_.

His own _son_. So cold, so unnervingly cold that Sakumo’s mind blanked whenever he thought about his young boy, barely matured enough to even be _considered_ a ninja.

When was the last time they had held a comfortable discussion together face to face? No. When was the last time he had even _talked_ to his son, much less held a decent father to son conversation about how their day was, or how they were feeling, or even passed a few simple words in greeting? It seemed ages ago that Kakashi would look up with an easy smile on his face, expression brightening whenever he saw his father. 

No, they passed each other without greetings or goodbyes, all words lost in the accusing looks his son’s dark eyes gave him whenever they passed, and Sakumo hated this so _so much_ yet he could do nothing but watch, a remorseful and ever so guilty pit in his chest building up until he felt that he needed to cough up every organ in his body until death itself came to take him. When was the last time Kakashi even felt relaxed at home? When was the last time his _son_ acted like his age, free to feel and free to laugh? Sakumo did nothing but watch as Kakashi flew through the academy with his prodigious skills, rising amongst the ranks at even such a young age, with whispers of _“genius”_ and _“lost pride of Konoha’s White Fang”_ following his back whenever he passed. 

It was heartbreakingly sickening.

He loved Kakashi so so much yet he could do absolutely _nothing_ to prevent his only child from suffering the effects of social rejection that Sakumo brought upon himself and his name. It was _his fault_.

Sakumo was suffocating. He could not breathe through the stabbing glares and the cold looks and the haunting comments of _“trash”_ and _“utter failure”_ binding his chest and clamping down on his throat. Every effort felt so useless for Sakumo to even try to rebuild and save whatever face he had left. He felt absolutely helpless and he _hated_ it deeply.

But more than anything, Sakumo simply felt tired.

He was tired of the whispers behind his back.

He was tired of the snide looks and lips turned in disgust.

He was tired of the sharp gazes boring into the back of his head regardless of whether he noticed them or not (he always did, the voices never left him alone) and the graffitti on the sidewalk to his compound and the way they all side stepped him in the streets, ignored him, and ridiculed him for his faults and cut open every wound that never had a chance to heal.

He was just so tired of everything.

What was the point in getting up in the mornings, to get up and go train? He could barely drag himself out of bed each day, feed himself breakfast, and make himself seem presentable to the public for whatever pride he had left in him.

It seemed that his tanto, his forehead protector, and the thought of public face were the only things physically binding him down to Earth and keeping him going, now. Keeping him awake. Forcing him to push oxygen into his lungs so that he could breathe past the choking hands around his neck. Keeping him alive.

One unbearable night he had sat on his heels in his room and held his tanto out in front of his stomach, the tip resting on one thin layer of fabric. The night’s silence enveloped the room. It seemed as though the entirety of Konoha was asleep that hour, and Kakashi was only a few doors down the hall lying quietly in his own deep slumber. Sakumo felt eerily calm, yet his palms were slicked with sweat and the buzzing in his ears only multiplied tenfold with the haze around his senses thickening in the dead of night. But no matter how much his mind screamed, begged, and prayed, his hands would not move the extra inch. But _Kakashi_. Kakashi deserved _better_. But _what was better?_ His arms would not give the final push to finally release him to his eternal slumber beyond this world and away from the agonizing weeks he had been suffering from. The sword only slipped through his fingers and clattered onto the matted ground with a shattering loudness in his ears, cold sweat crawling over his body as his hands began to shake and tremble with utter revulsion from the actions he had taken. Almost taken. Oh, god, he _hated_ himself.  
Even when thoroughly wracked with _utter shame_ , it seemed that Sakumo would never gain his peace.

 

As they pushed through the green forests bordering the Fire Country once more, the captain signed for them to stop, leaving their group to approach the old wooden cottage they had arrived at during their treck. It was a simple enough mission. Reconnaissance for an old hideout that had been in use during the last war, what with the nomadic tribes from Grass having used the little nondescript building as a checkpoint monument.

But Sakumo was already lagging and he could feel himself slowing down and dragging behind every single one of his teammates. The Hokage must already know that his performance was trudging in the mud, and so must the rest of the shinobi population, with their whispers of _“trash”_ and _“failure”_ and _“good for nothing”_ hovering in the air wherever he stepped and breathed. But here, Sakumo only felt his mind slowly succumbing to fatigue and weighing himself down.

Maybe after this mission he could go home to a peaceful rest. Maybe the incident would have blown over and he could go out for a drink or two with his colleagues to relax. Perhaps he should go check up on Jiraya and see how his friend and his students were doing. Hadn’t the white-haired man mentioned something about his one student Minato taking an interest in fuinjutsu? The boy must be making incredible progress for his praise to be so high. Perhaps he could finally have a second to breathe and eat a nice dinner with his son at home. 

But Sakumo knew none of this would happen. He would only come home to the hands around his throat and the dense pit in his chest multiplying on itself with his most darkest thoughts. He would only continue to suffocate even more, drowning in his own despair and clinging to whatever light was thrown his way. Sakumo was just tired of it all.

As they entered the wooden building, they came across an assortment of scrolls and tablets, most of them scrawled with unfinished jutsus and pieces of history that were to be recorded and sealed back in the village archives when they returned in the next few days. They, after all, still had a few more points on the map to hit before turning back.

Sakumo had just sealed a rather large and hefty looking scroll into storage when he felt a sudden tugging at every single one of his senses, causing his muscles to tense. It came from the room next door. Shaking his head, Sakumo followed the urging force, only nodding to his teammate when she passed him with a tip of the head in the narrow and dank hall.

The source was carefully hidden within a dusty old wooden desk and Sakumo picked up the tightly and carefully wound scroll, the tugging feeling growing even stronger now that it was right _there_. He held it in front of himself, fingers hesitating to move.

Ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him not to do anything stupid, he tore through the wax seal and unfurled the stiff and crinkling paper, holding it out in front of his face. It was scrawled over with swirls and patterns and writings in what he could only guess to be an ancient language, probably used by the tribes that had once laid claim to these grounds before the warring countries came into play.

Against his better judgement, (and it seemed that this has been happening ever so often recently; there really was no point, was there- what with his shame and constant build up of depressive anxiety, and, oh the pain, how much pain he must be thrusting onto his son simply by association, his boy, his Kakashi-) he released some of his chakra into the yellowing and cracked paper, lighting up the black and fading ink with an electric white (is that what Kakashi’s chakra looked like when he tested his ninjutsu? Sakumo had never gotten around to asking, with his throat closing tightly whenever he looked to his young boy). Chakra rushed back through his fingers and he breathed in sharply past the surge of energy.

The scroll ignited.

Sakumo’s last thought before his entire vision went black from the explosion was: _Maybe I may reach my well deserved rest at last._


	2. Monotony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monotony - noun : wearisome uniformity or lack of variety, as in occupation or scenery
> 
> Kakashi is in a(n unwarranted) state of monotony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here in which Kakashi drags himself through more paperwork.

Kakashi was feeling peeved.

Or so to say that he was mildly irritated was just a bit on the understatement side, seeing as within the last three weeks he had to face piles of paperwork, mountains of needed signatures, a group of disputing council members who could never agree on one _same thing_ , and at least one hundred different requests with ridiculous reasonings behind why they would even be categorized as missions each day 24/7.

Even with the most fake-ass smiles he could give out to his now subordinates and colleagues (it seemed that no matter what he did, none of his former teammates that he worked with would give in to his bullshit excuses of why he didn’t have the time, the drive, the _effort_ to finish his work) he would still be stuck with even more piles of complaints, projects, and even more _paperwork_. 

(When voicing his complaints, Genma only laughed in his face and Guy did nothing but beam into his life with a motivational address about the rite of passage of the dirt and sweat of hard work and the holy figure of a leader to follow, to watch, to _trust_. Yamato politely disappeared during this speech.) 

He did not sign up for this, no matter what Tsunade says; and even without her, ahem, having _coerced_ him into taking the position, Kakashi had already known that he was nowhere near fit to be taking the job as Hokage. He just simply was not the type to hold an administrative position with power, no matter how appropriate others apparently thought he was to hold such a leadership position so high up the, well, the highest rung on the Konoha social ladder.

On pure instinct, he nearly threw the hat straight back at the dangerously lethal and powerful blonde when she first brought it to him, only barely keeping himself standing there with the ominous thought of being an imprint on the wall if he shamelessly rejected her offer outright. 

But now here he is, and after seeing all the shit Tsunade had to put up with during her own governing, Kakashi could almost say he felt some sort of a deep bond with the older woman now that he himself had his ass glued to the chair and his arms forever resting on the same table that all the previous hokages had been at as well. 

Though maybe not exactly the _same_ table, as the village and the Hokage Tower itself had gone through many renovations and revamps to reach this date.

(He won’t admit that it was the raging memory of the young boy with coal black hair and tinted orange goggles changed into a man that lost his vision and dreams to be looked up to, appreciated, loved, a leader, _Hokage_ , before finally regaining his stride, hope, and heart that caused Kakashi to decidedly accept and clench tightly onto the cloak with a _Six_ and the hat with a _Fire_ that also reminded him so much of a young, blond mentor, teacher, _brother_ figure who coaxed Kakashi out of his deepening grief; though at the time he would never dare to acknowledge it.)

With everything constantly going on in the village, no wonder Tsunade kept a special drawer in her office specifically for alcohol and the like (and Kakashi nearly had it in his mind to have one of his own very soon if the _paperwork_ did not _stop_ anytime soon). But, of course, none of his aids would allow for the simple idea of alcohol in the official office. (When he brought it up jokingly, Iruka Umino only gave him the most deadpan look in the entirety of the five great shinobi nations.) (He dispersed the moment by commenting how the look might just get stuck on Iruka’s face if he didn’t stop looking at Kakashi that way every time he had the chance.)

(Kakashi found himself with more paperwork on his desk to sign later that evening.)

Though he wasn’t saying that he purposely lagged around his work as Hokage and flunked everything that came his way lazily to parallel a child’s tantrum, no. In fact, Kakashi had dutifully carried out each and every trial since taking the hat and cloak to his fullest ability, regardless of his inner turmoils (not that for the first week or two he did not attempt to see if he could possibly just be kicked out of the position by annoying those around him. Yes, he did try and yes he did fail). 

He could almost ( _almost_ is the key word here) see why the council had even considered making him leader of the entire village, with what other turn-of-the-century candidates they had there in the choice pool going on. And this was including Naruto Uzumaki himself. 

Though, the fact that Naruto had not been anywhere _near ready_ to take on the responsibility of the hat did go into their decision making scheme a bit (he was also nowhere near 20 at the time, god forbid they have a _teenager_ taking command of the shinobi forces- though Gaara might as well be a one-of-a-kind diamond-in-the-rough example in the circumstances given).

Saying that, his orange clad student accounted for nearly 80% of the reasons why Kakashi felt himself aging towards retirement so early on. (This was if he disregarded the dealings of his other two students, with one quite physically out of the picture for now and the other gracefully shooting her way to her rightful position at the top of the medicinal pyramid.) 

Then again, his grey hair may simply be a reason on its own why he was already there as an old soul. But being in his thirties was not _really_ that old, was it? Apparently not old enough to not deal with shit happening like the threat of the _moon_ falling to _Earth_ because of a moon spirit-figure-person who wanted to eradicate shinobi everywhere.

Regardless, he still had to face his current conundrum that was standing in front of him in his office in the shape of Naruto Uzumaki.

“But Kakashi-sensei I’ve been stuck here for _ages_.” And the next fatal words: “I’m _bored_.”

Kakashi’s expression barely twitched. “Because saving the world from the total destruction of the human race from our moon breaking apart and crashing into us not even a month ago simply can not quench your thirst for some action.”

Naruto simply laughed at his words, a bandaged hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “It’s not my fault I get jittery without something exciting to do.”

“‘Exciting’.” Kakashi tapped his finger against the surface of the wooden desk, mind searching a bit for a topic to busy the boy with. “Haven’t you and Hinata been putting together plans for a wedding? Surely that must take a lot of work and effort out of your time.”

Naruto’s face lit up so fast that Kakashi was nearly blinded by the sheer enthusiasm suddenly radiating from his student. Or former student. But still his student. Even if Naruto is the hero of the entire world of some sorts, he is still Kakashi’s student.

“Yeah!” The blond’s blue eyes sparkled and he waved his arms around, boredom suddenly forgotten. Oh, Naruto. “We’ve been talking about it for _ages_. Hinata’s still thinking about the timing and her clan-related responsibilities but it’s probably not gonna be happening way too soon or too far out in the future so keep your ears open!”

“Mm, I will.” Kakashi switched to tapping his finger against the pen in his hand, non-discreetly flicking his eyes to the door behind Naruto. “You should probably go solidify those plans with her clan then, don’t you think?”

Naruto blinked, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “That’s truuue, though Hanabi always just shoves Hinata off of clan grounds whenever I come over so I never really-” He crossed his arms, turning to face the door with an anxious smile. “I think I’m gonna go see if I can find Hinata! See you later, Kakashi-sensei!”

Kakashi hummed in response, waiting patiently for the enigmatic presence to leave.

“Oh, wait-” Or not. Naruto suddenly whorled back around, realization on his face for a split second before he grinned, a finger pointing accusingly back at Kakashi. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Kakashi-sensei-” Of course the blond will never change to calling him ‘Hokage-sama’; it was too ingrained in his life and Kakashi wasn’t exactly looking for that change either. “-Hinata’s having a meeting with her dad right now so I can’t go over and I still haven’t had a mission in _ages_.”

“Mah, Naruto, don’t you have any faith in me?” Kakashi waved his hand a little at the blond “Of course I’m not trying to get rid of you-” He ignored the amusingly unconvinced pout on Naruto’s face and leaned down a bit to reach out for a drawer.

“Go on a diplomatic mission to Suna and have a reunion with your old friend the Kazekage or something; I’m sure Gaara would love to have you there as they plan for more infrastructure additions to the village.” Kakashi shuffled through the mission papers pulled out from a drawer under his desk, glancing through their requests and demands to fish out one that would suit the hyped-up boy in front of him while not entirely winding him out on the ground (of course that would be impossible to even think of, so in the end, any mission would do). 

Putting down the lower ranked jobs, Kakashi pulled out the folder for reconnaissance missions as Naruto went on reminiscing about a conversation he and Gaara had one time over brunch, shuffling through them until one caught his eye.

“-and, well, you know how Temari and Shikamaru’s been getting real close lately, right? So I was asking Gaara ‘bout it and he- oi, Kakashi-sensei, you aren’t even listening!”

“Ah, sorry. How about this one? It seems to match your criteria-” Kakashi cut his student off, waving the mission paper at Naruto and placing it near the front of the desk. Naruto scowled, grumbling under his breath about his ‘idiot sensei’ and how he ‘never changes’ as he shook his head. He stepped closer to the desk, leaning over to scan the page top to bottom.

“Reconnaissance?” Naruto squinted his eyes, hands on his hips. “What about my name screams ‘reconnaissance’? Eh, Kakashi-sensei, I would’ve expected you to give me something more… I don’t know…” He clicked his tongue, searching for the word. “Explosive?”

Kakashi pointed a lazy finger at the paper, directing Naruto’s blue eyes down several paragraphs.

“‘Suspicious chakra activity’?”

“Go check it out, hm?” Kakashi took his student’s humming contemplation as acceptance, pulling back the paper to face him so he could fill out the required information and permissions on the sheet.

Naruto tipped his head, glancing around as if looking for others in the room.

“Would anyone else be coming with me? I mean, this seems like something a sensor would be more fit to do.” Naruto shrugged, taking a peek at his weapons pouch anyways despite voicing his doubts.

“I already have an Anbu team scouring the surrounding areas,” Kakashi mused. “I’ll send a message to them about you heading there to join them soon. Besides, it’s a mission that shouldn’t take too long, given the parameters and team already there, so you’ll be back relatively soon if nothing out of the ordinary happens.” He eyed his student. “But with you there, something might just pop up.”

“Right,” Naruto said with a laugh, beginning to walk backwards towards the door. “I’ll hold you to that, Kakashi-sensei!”

Kakashi rolled his eyes, shooing the orange boy out of his room with a wave of his hand. The door shut behind him. A peaceful silence settled in the office once more. With a sigh, Kakashi leaned back in his chair, shuffling around the papers on his desk.

A knock sounded on the door. His eye twitched. “Come in.”

“Hokage-sama-” A bespectacled secretary poked her head in, a bulky looking folder in her hands. “The head of the south-west trading company has stated that he changed his mind and would like to continue with the negotiations regarding the route of service for Konoha. He has filled out his portion of the formal papers, and has requested that you consider completing the deal.”

The woman walked forward at Kakashi’s nod, handing over the overflowing bundle of papers before leaving the room with a bow.

Kakashi grimaced. He vaguely (not entirely, for that would be asking for trouble) hoped that something _intriguing_ would take place soon or else he may become the first Hokage to die from sheer boredom. 

What an accomplishment that would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Disquiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disquiet - v. : to deprive of calmness, equanimity, or peace; disturb; make uneasy  
> Sai did not know why he felt disquieted.

Sai tipped his head at the little ink mice scurrying away from his scroll. 

He was not frowning, but the state of mild confusion in his mind was nearly causing an unwarranted downward tug at his lips. He decided to blame it on this mission.

A familiar signature suddenly pulsed above and behind him and Sai glanced up briefly, swiftly slipping out his ink scroll and unrolling it to face the sky with a practiced hand. An ink hawk speedily plummeted straight down, seemingly splattering onto the paper and gracefully separating into distinct curves and lines of a returned message by the Hokage.

Sai skimmed the message with dark eyes, eying the name bolded on the paper. It left him with a rather apprehensive feeling budding within his chest.

It seemed that… well, it was stated that one Naruto Uzumaki would be rendezvousing with his Anbu team within the next day or so to aid them on their inspections and reconnaissance of land activities.

Well. 

He did enjoy the blond’s company and presence; that was entirely undebatable and it has been long since Sai attempted to dissect his own reasoning for his loyalty for his friend. But in such a given situation as this, even Sai did not need to consult chapters from his self-help books to suspect that his former teammate was being sent out by the Hokage for Kakashi-san to simply rid the boy from his hair. 

In another sobering thought, perhaps Naruto was actually partially the cause of Sai’s former captain’s ever grey hair. 

Now wouldn’t that be a phenomenon for the books.

Either way, the mission on hand would be completed by the end of the week. If nothing were to happen, of course. But with the way things had been going almost _too_ smoothly, Sai did not want to think of the things that could go wrong with the luck of having been someone on the infamous Team 7. Adding Naruto would simply multiply that luck by leaps and bounds.

The forest was the same as always, he could tell, but something about this reconnaissance mission was off. Sai had left the village plenty of times to scour surrounding areas on both public and unlisted missions to gather information, but this particular one made him feel… wary. Yes, wary.

The group had left the village not several days ago out East towards the border and reached a clearing where traces of condensed chakra were left lining the grounds and long-decomposed structures that had been identified as wooden buildings. The Anbu team had then scattered, searching for nearby traps or any sign of tampering on the grounds but none of his team members came back with anything of the sort.

There had been absolutely no traceable suspicious activities worth noting despite the concerning levels of chakra quite literally _hovering_ in the air around them in the small overgrown clearing they had come across, surrounding a long deserted outpost a bit more south than where Sai’s team was currently scattered.

This mission was simple in statement, as his team had been ordered to evaluate several points on the map in the surrounding forests that were rather close to the border. These locations had previously been inspected due to “suspicious activity” and labeled as “grey-locations”, since the inspections were biannual and mainly listed just to fill in for formalities in land claim checks.

But Sai still felt unsettled.

Of course, he had long since learned not solely to trust the orders and written words given to him, but to also give thought to his gut feelings and what he felt to be right. (He was depending more on his own judgement, which made him feel some sort of a warmth and independence at times, although it was still difficult to discern what and when it was appropriate to truly follow those feelings and let his emotions fly.)

(Of course, Naruto made connecting with others seem so easy that empathy must have been what he was born to do, charisma and all. Then again, Naruto Uzumaki was also not the best example when explaining the rules and ticks of fully professional behavior based solely on logic and no emotional attachment at all. Especially when being thrown into tense and dangerously invested situations.)

However, most of the time the uncomfortable sensations pitting themselves deep in his chest made him even more confused (he was trying, and he was learning, at least) and he found that it usually led to him realizing the ugly truths of the situations presented. 

He would rather ignore them after all.

The tug at his senses only grew stronger by the hour, and Sai still had not figured out what it was that was pulling at him from every inch of his being. Perhaps his gut feeling was trying to tell him something else? Was there an attack coming soon? Were opposition forces nearby?

Long since the Fourth War’s end, there had been no real threats against Konoha and Konoha only (this was if he took out the incident with the moon), but Sai still stayed sharp and alert for any threats at all, no matter how unconcerning they seemed. 

Something rustled and Sai stilled, watching as Fox landed silently right in front of him.

The Anbu nodded briefly and leaped back towards the tree branches above, their shoes glowing a discrete blue to flicker back into the camouflaging shadows. Two paper-white mice suddenly scurried back towards Sai, and he opened his scroll again to a blank section to regroup his information.

Maybe the feeling in his chest was only due to the fact that their backup was in the shape and form of Naruto Uzumaki. That, of course, would be another reason entirely why Sai felt a rather contradictory sinking feeling. He would consider it to be the problem, however the sinking feeling had been there far earlier than when he had received Kakashi-san’s message.

Sai frowned, and his senses sharpened when the air around him suddenly changed, honing in on a suddenly _swirling_ mass of chakra building up rapidly behind him.

There was an explosion.

Chakra _radiated_ in waves straight through the Anbu team in the small forest clearing and Sai whipped his head around, eyes narrowed and hand up to regroup his scattered team members. It came from the outpost.

There was a sudden appearance of a tightly controlled chakra signature in his field of sensing, and Sai tensed - it wasn’t _possible_ for anyone to have made their way into his Anbu team’s perimeters without having any of their members being alerted at the mere presence that was so obviously fluctuating and alerting every life source in the area.

With a twitch of his fingers, Sai and his team swept past the trees, lightly landing just before the forest opened up to the clearing of the outpost they had passed previously. Apprehension built in his chest.

With a nod, Hawk silently swept towards the run-down structure, muting his chakra signature to a flicker. 

There was a body of a man at the base of the deserted outpost, lying face down on the ground.

He wore the… _former_ Konoha distributed jounin flak jacket with the Uzushiogakure crest. There was a tanto strapped to his back.

Fox hovered, scanning the body before checking for a pulse. With a brief signal, the Anbu cautiously turned the man to view his face. He wore the Konoha forehead protector. He had untamed grey hair tied lowly at the back of his neck. Grey hair the exact shade of Sai’s former… 

Sai felt himself tense even further, a series of questions running through his mind. It couldn’t _possibly_ … Of course he read all about it during his training and memorized the entire history of Konoha’s greatest soldiers… But even if they looked nearly _exactly the same_ -

The man twitched and the team reacted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter was a bit iffy for me to write, but I'm glad I finished it because I really do like Sai's character  
> On another note, I am currently lowkey screaming about final projects and exams coming up, but I'll survive :)

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing fanfiction ^.^; and wala here it is.  
> In other news, a self-indulgent fic so the father can hear words from his son that are (hopefully) what is needed to tie off loose ends.


End file.
